


"It"

by SeeNashWrite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Friends Who Become More, Friendship, Humor, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 03:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10936455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeNashWrite/pseuds/SeeNashWrite
Summary: A fellow hunter finally finds it, the answer to solving a case she never quite put to rest; enter Dean and his penchant for picking up, dropping, and breaking things.





	"It"

"I broke it."

Dean immediately made some sort of slightly cringy face that I'm guessing he thought came off as adorable, then Sam looked over his shoulder at me with the same routine, albeit nervously.

I couldn't say what expression _my_ face had taken on, but Castiel was staring at me like I was either going to vomit or combust.

"It was an accident," Sam tried. And failed. I was _seething_.

"I can't kill you, I know, 'cause that never seems to _take,"_ I said to Dean. "But I sure as hell can beat the tar out of you."

Dean narrowed his eyes a bit at me, and I knew he was trying to judge if I was serious.

I was serious.

Several moments of near-painful silence went by, which Dean, naturally, broke.

"It was… look, this _thing_ on the side… here… and the… is… it wasn't my… then my _hand_ , so… see?"

"Uh-huh," I said, crossing my arms.

"I'm going to go. I think I should check on the bunker," Castiel said to me as he backed up, sticking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door.

"Uh-huh," I repeated, only seeing him out of the corner of my eye, as I was still focused on my target.

Dean frowned. "Nice, Cas, thanks a lot."

"You're most welcome," Castiel replied, then promptly zipped away.

I was proud of him. That was some absolutely-on-purpose, right-back-atcha sarcasm. I was also glad he had 86′ed himself, one less thing to stand in between me and laying down that aforementioned ass-whooping.

Dean rolled his eyes, then warily brought them back to mine. Sam sighed and leaned over in his chair, getting a better look at the pieces scattered around Dean's feet. He reached out.

"Nope! Don't. You. _Dare_ ," I said.

Well, possibly yelled. Could've been a shout. Either way he jumped back, held up his hands briefly as if I were going to arrest him.

" _What_ is your _problem?_ " Dean snapped.

My jaw dropped. "You. _You_ , with the constant _touching_ things and _handling_ things and us having to watch you like you're a _four_ -year-old!" I snapped right back.

He glared, and I started pacing around, gesturing with my arms and hands, and I probably looked like a raving lunatic but I felt like I was _dealing_ with a lunatic, so he deserved a little crazy dished back at him.

"I honestly don't get it - I really don't. Consider me boggled. With the knife spinning and the gun flipping like you're in some movie, and then the behind-the-back shots, and the sliding _over_ to some nasty or _away_ from some creeper, like you're on a damn baseball team, _all_ those moves, and I just - _how_ can one man have that level of coordination and still manage to _fumble_ everything else? Huh? Can either of you tell me that?"

"You know, you're being a real—"

"I don't know how Sam survived childhood, with all the dropping him on his head you must've done, but hey - maybe by some stroke of luck you activated a hidden part of his brain and that's how he ended up a genius."

Sam grinned. "Thanks!"

"Oh, shut up," Dean told him.

"The _hours_ … the _days_ …. the _weeks_ … _months_ … all wasted," I went on. "There's not another one. It's one of a kind. Nothing else like it. You have single-handedly screwed me."

Sam stood and walked over. I'd quit pacing, but my arms were still up and out. I brought my hands to either side of my head. I was muttering random sounds, essentially growling at no one in particular. Sam hesitated briefly, but then took me by the wrists and gently lowered my arms, sliding his hands down to hold mine, giving them a few good squeezes as he spoke.

"Listen, lemme just… if I can just move all of it to the table, get a real good look at the damage, maybe there's something that can be done to fix it."

"Sure, super glue should do the trick," Dean said dryly. He was still hanging out on the side of the bed. I had to give him credit, though - he was holding onto what was left of it like it already _had_ been coated in super glue, not making the first move to touch the rest.

I made myself inhale and exhale a deep breath before responding. "I appreciate that. I do. I wish you would let _me_ do the moving. 'K?"

"Okay. And we'll go pick up some dinner, let you have some space, that sound good?"

"Good. Yeah."

"What can we bring you?"

I almost said a time machine so we could all go back ten minutes, so I wouldn't have left it with Dean, and so he wouldn't have picked it up in the first place. But I didn't - Sam didn't deserve to be treated that way. His brother on the other hand…

Dean stood.

"Don't move!" I exclaimed, pulling my hands from Sam's and rushing away from him, dropping to my knees near Dean's feet.

"I can step over—"

“Put--- put it down on the bed, and please, just--- _please_ take it slow.”

He did so, but then I felt him staring at me as I surveyed the mess around us. I looked up, and I admit, the anger was fading and the panic was starting to set in. He must’ve seen it because his expression got a bit softer and there was actually a little sympathy in his eyes.

He glanced away for a second, then back. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“I know.”

“If I thought it would slip out of my hands, I would have---”

“Stop, will ya?” My head had already dropped again, as I gingerly picked up one of the larger pieces that was directly in his path. I leaned up briefly to set it on the bed, away from the edge, then back down I went. I grabbed the back of his calf, scooted myself to the side, then prompted him to lift. "Step clean over these smaller pieces, alright?"

I raised my free hand so he could steady himself. He responded with a firm grip and allowing me to guide the leg til his foot was planted, then we repeated the action with no problem on his opposite side. I let out a huge sigh of relief - so did he.

"We'll be back in no time," Sam told me, and I heard Dean fishing his keys from his pocket, but I was focused and didn't acknowledge them. The door closed without any of us saying another word. And that was when the tears finally came to my eyes.

Here was the thing: the Winchester brothers had helped me over the last few hurdles in my quest to find it. I was more grateful than they'd ever know. I needed it to put a long-time cold case of mine officially to rest, and I couldn't figure it out on my own, which had pissed me off to no end, but _not_ getting the assist just wasn't an option.

Sam had labored for countless hours over _piles_ of clues and hints and other nonsense that had been tripping me up for years. Dean had been a champ out in the field, often checking leads on his own when their cases took them near some place that held promise, clocking who _knows_ how many miles. We'd hung out socially a few times when they were in my neck of the woods, I'd spoken with Sam at least every-other-week, texted with Dean just as frequently, and well…

I considered us friends. Good friends. Maybe my _only_ friends. Maybe _I_ was _their_ only friend, too.

And I thought about that, all of those things, as I stood over the table, staring down at what we'd worked so hard to find. Nothing was cracked or chipped, thin motel carpeting be damned. None of the pieces were tiny or crumbled, the smallest of them still taking up my entire palm.

It _almost_ seemed… it _shouldn't_ have, really… it hadn't _felt_ like it…

Yet there were things about it I hadn't noticed before, all these intricate details. Diagonal grooves on the piece Dean had managed to keep in his hands, along with oddly-shaped spaces that almost looked like they tunneled. I studied the smaller pieces - similar grooves. And on the sides that had faced internally, I couldn't believe what I was seeing, now that tears weren't clouding my vision.

I was just starting to smile when the door opened.

"Hey that's good to see," Sam said. He was carrying our drinks and headed straight to the dresser - he knew better than to set them on the table with it.

"What's good to see?" Dean asked. His arms were full of bags stacked atop a small box, so he kicked the door shut behind him.

I don't know what came over me, but I rushed him, and the poor klutz would've likely dropped his cargo had I not pressed in so far as I put my hands on either side of his head and pulled his face in close, planting a quick kiss on his lips.

It was a toss-up, what I saw on his face - horror or surprise - when I pulled away and wide eyes stared back at me, but I couldn't have cared less.

"Oh you beautiful man," I told him, now smiling so much my cheeks hurt.

He blinked a few times, still startled.

"I got you cupcakes."

"What?" I asked.

"What?" he asked right back.

"What?" Sam chimed in. "I mean, what _happened_ , why are you—"

I went to turn from Dean, but he wobbled, so I thought better of it. I grabbed the bags, leaving him with just the box. I mean, priorities and all, but I _wanted_ those cupcakes. I answered Sam as I made my way to the dresser.

"He dropped it, but he didn't _break_ it - looks like it was _supposed_ to come apart."

"What?!" Sam exclaimed.

"We need to all stop saying 'what'," Dean said, and in a gruff tone, so I glanced over at him.

He met my eye, then immediately turned his back to me and started sorting out the food. I frowned slightly, but I didn't have time to figure him out. I walked back over to the table where Sam was standing, taking a good look at it.

"I liked the compliment and all - but _you_ are the genius," Sam told me, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "Did you see, on these, how on the inside they've got—"

"Yup! Think those might twist and turn and snuggle up all nice and cozy into these gaps?"

Sam grinned, pulled me into a huge hug, held so tight I almost gasped.

"I'm really happy for you," he said, and heaven help me, wrapped those never-ending arms even tighter.

Dean cleared his throat. Loudly. Twice.

Sam let go and I chuckled as his stomach growled. Loudly. Twice.

"Let's dig in," I announced, heading over to the spread Dean had laid out.

"You don't wanna—"

"Nah. It'll still be there when we're ready."

.

* * *

.

Dean was on his bed and I was on Sam's, both of us propped against the headboards, a handful of cupcake wrappers tossed on the bedside table between us.

Sam didn't join in on dessert, instead making a beeline for the table, and was currently in a chair, hunched over, working on the puzzle. He'd made good headway - I'd barely set in to my second cupcake when he'd already gotten three pieces back in place. In their _new_ places, that is - because that was the key to my little mystery. It wasn't supposed to stay the same.

"It's looking good," I told him. And it was - it was turning into a completely different shape, but one that seemed much more sturdy. Dean had noticed immediately.

“It’ll stand up now, on its own, instead of being wonky on bottom, won’t it?”

“Looks like. There’s still something that needs to go over here, to keep it steady, I think.”

“You sure you don’t want me to take over?” I asked.

Sam looked up, shot me a little wink, then shook his head.

“No way. This is the fun part.”

“You’re the boss.”

I glanced at Dean, who had just killed off the rest of what had to have been his fourth cupcake, adding the wrapper to the pile.

"For someone in a love affair with pie…"

"Pie understands me."

"You know, at first I thought that was going to keep us from being friends."

"Hmm?"

"My cake preference."

"We all have our faults."

“Truer words,” I replied with a laugh

I pushed myself off the headboard, made my way to a sitting position on the side of the bed, grabbed my boots and started putting them back on.

“What're you doing?”

“Well, if Sam’s not gonna let me help, least I can do is make a beer run."

"That'll be great, thanks," Sam said.

Dean watched in silence as I laced up, then grabbed my jacket off of the chair Sam wasn't in. He waited til I'd almost had my hand on the doorknob before he got up, told me to wait a minute, he'd come with me. Then I heard his keys jingle.

"I'll drive."

"My car's here," I reminded him.

Dean all but shoved me aside when he reached for the handle, pulling the door open even though I was still partially blocking the way. I gave him a _look_.

"Well?" he asked.

I looked pointedly at his arm. He moved back so I could pass, and out into the parking lot we went. We were nearing the Impala's driver side, but I waited to go around, instead turning so fast Dean stopped just short of running into me. The odd vibe that had been hanging over us for months had to come to an end.

"I'm sorry I was such a bitch earlier, I really am."

"You had every right to be. Anyway, I tend to have that effect on women."

I glanced down. The last quarter of his jeans and most of his boots were coated in a thin layer of dried mud, leftover from what he'd brushed off before getting into the car. I knew there must've been plenty of bruising on his arms and legs, too.

My mind went back to earlier that night, all the work he'd done to retrieve it from the abandoned, mostly caved-in mine out in the middle of nowhere. Sam was too big to fit through what little of an opening was left, and he'd physically held me back, fussing with me about the danger of a full-on collapse, when next thing we knew, we were alone. Dean had climbed down and started making his way inside while our backs were turned.

I looked back up to find him staring at me, not making a move to go around me or rush me, remind me that the beer was out there all alone, waiting on us, needing a good, loving home, and I added that to the list of oddities.

"Still. I shouldn't have. Being that close to something that… I've just been looking for it so long, to think it was _right there_ and in one second…"

Dean nodded. "We're good."

I nodded as well, but didn't budge. "I believe you. So can we… can we stop being weird?"

"Who's weird?"

I gave him another _look._

He gave one in return.

I let out a little huff.

The side of his mouth quirked up ever-so-slightly.

"It's been… _tense_ ," I pointed out. "Not just you making with the clumsy and all. I mean the past couple times we've been around each other. Then over this whole trip, we've been… Listen, I _know_ what a basket case I've turned into, as we got closer to it, and I wanna make sure it hasn't wrecked our friend—"

Dean planted his lips on mine just as abruptly as I'd done to him earlier. Only this was different. He'd shut his eyes. And he lingered.

He pulled away for a fraction of a second, I suppose to see how I'd react, and I didn't give it much thought before I leaned in and kissed him right back.

It wasn't what I would've expected. I'd seen him kissing other women. There was always this urgency to those kisses, like he was trying to speed through it to reach a finish line, to hurry and get it out of the way.

This, though… _this_ was a slow burn, then just as slowly, his hands were creeping around my waist and slipping under my jacket, pulling me in, and I found myself following suit.

"See? Here you go again, with the touching…" I mumbled into his mouth.

"….and the handling…."

"….all the moves…."

He stilled, stopped another kiss before it really even started, though he didn't move away.

"But am I fumbling it?"

"Oh, this is a _horrible_ idea," I replied, my lips still brushing against his.

" _Huge_ mistake," he agreed, eyes shining.

We were kidding, sure, but there was truth behind it, and that was something we both damn well realized. And _I_ realized I was probably the one who had to play the grown-up, so I let my hands fall away from him, stepped back. Not by much, though.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Liiiike…."

"Like you do at the chicks in the diners and the bars. That bartender last time we were all together - _the_ look."

"And it's how I'm looking at you, huh?"

"Mmm-hmm. It happened when you knew all you'd have to do was snap your fingers at her. Just like _all_ of 'em, when you'd know… _ooooh_."

He hadn't stepped into the space I'd created, just leaned, dropped his head to my neck, started planting barely-there kisses, and at that moment had landed on a nice spot just behind my ear.

"When I'd know what?" he asked, lazily kissing his way back around, under my jaw, then higher, to my cheek.

"Know you'd… how… it'd be a sure thing… that you were… you _know_ … gonna _get it_."

Dean brought his head around to look at me, and one of his patented, pleased-with-himself smirks was planted firmly on his face.

"Well - I _did_ get it."

"Horrible idea _and_ horrible jokes, I'm loving this whole thing we've got going."

He dropped the smirk, turning it into something with a touch of sincerity. Something a breath away from being serious, and I didn't quite know how to feel about it. About _any_ of it.

"Not what I meant."

I drifted closer; he closed what little distance remained.

"That right?" I asked, but I couldn't help it - it came out as a whisper.

And _he_ whispered into my ear once he'd pulled me into his arms.

"Yeah, I got it. I've got it for _you_."

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is fuel! Let me know if you enjoyed. -Nash


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